"Was I? I suppose I was thinking of the past. Seeing ghosts perhaps."

"Oh yes, of course you stayed here, didn't you, when you were a young man? An old lady was murdered here, or something?"

"Poisoned with strychnine."

"What was she like? Nice or nasty?"

I considered the question.

"She was a very kind woman," I said slowly. "Generous. Gave a lot to charity."

"Oh, that kind of generosity."

Judith's voice sounded faintly scornful. Then she asked a curious question:

"Were people - happy here?"

No, they had not been happy. That, at least I knew. I said slowly:

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they felt like prisoners. Mrs. Inglethorp, you see, had all the money - and - and doled it out. Her stepchildren could have no life of their own." I heard Judith take a sharp breath. The hand on my arm tightened.

"That's wicked - wicked. An abuse of power. It shouldn't be allowed. Old people, sick people, they shouldn't have the power to hold up the lives of the young and strong. To keep them tied down, fretting, wasting their power and energy that could be used - that's needed. It's just selfishness."

"The old," I said drily, "have not got a monopoly of that quality."

"Oh, I know, Father, you think the young are selfish. So we are, perhaps, but it's a clean selfishness. At least we only want to do what we want ourselves, we don't want everybody else to do what we want, we don't want to make slaves of other people."

"No, you just trample them down if they happen to be in your way." Judith squeezed my arm. She said:

"Don't be so bitter! I don't really do much trampling - and you've never tried to dictate our lives to any of us. We are grateful for that."

"I'm afraid," I said honestly, "that I'd have liked to, though. It was your mother who insisted you should be allowed to make your own mistakes." Judith gave my arm another quick squeeze. She said:

"I know. You'd have liked to fuss over us like a hen! I do hate fuss. I won't stand it. But you do agree with me, don't you, about useful lives being sacrificed to useless ones?"

"It does sometimes happen," I admitted. "But there's no need for drastic measures... It's up to anybody just to walk out, you know."

"Yes, but is it? Is it?"

Her tone was so vehement that I looked at her in some astonishment. It was too dark to see her face clearly. She went on, her voice low and troubled.

"There's so much - it's so difficult - financial considerations, a sense of responsibility, reluctance to hurt someone you've been fond of - all those things, and some people are so unscrupulous - they know just how to play on all those feelings. Some people - some people are like leeches!"

"My dear Judith," I exclaimed, taken aback by the positive fury of her tone. She seemed to realize that she had been overvehement, for she laughed and withdrew her arm from mine.